The Truth
He hinted
about a distant relative,
As if I was
the chief of a lost tribe,
Where we
were ten generations apart,
And then he
moved his chair closer.
A form of English
words came out
Of his overly
hydrated mouth and
For the
first few minutes I had to
Adapt my
ears to such an accent.
Finally, something
familiar he uttered:
“In all
honesty,”
And for an
hour of pure listening,
Dazzled to
the amount of information
That
actually sunk into my head,
The gist of
it was identity loss!
Here, let
me break it down for you:
Forty minutes
of total nonsense,
And twenty minutes
of weird and
Disgusting
sounds, and I believe
It was, to
him, a form of nonverbal cues,
So, indeed,
an hour of oral chaos:
Identity loss
in its purest form!
Friday, 03rd of April 2015
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